


Of Angels and Angles

by DraSuuh



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, This is my very first fic pls be kind to me, that missing scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 21:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraSuuh/pseuds/DraSuuh
Summary: Yes, it's yet another "Aziraphale sleeping over at Crowley's" fic. Sorrynotsorry.





	Of Angels and Angles

     Crowley wearily lifted his arm to snap the door open and strode into his apartment. Aziraphale followed, a bit timidly, the imposing grey walls seeming to press in on him despite the square footage.

“Come on, Angel.” Crowley stopped and held out his hand.

     Said angel snapped his head back towards the demon, having been preoccupied with the study of a rather interesting statue (Crowley distracted him before he was able to fully take it in — probably for the best). “Oh?” Their bus ride had been mostly silent, and these were the first words either of them had spoken in about half an hour.

“I know you don’t like to sleep, but even you need some rest after the day we’ve had. I insist.”

     Aziraphale cast his eyes about in vain for a piece of furniture that looked even vaguely comfortable. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Bed.”

“Oh! Oh… your bed?”

“Yes, my bed.” He made an impatient movement with the hand still stretched out.

     At nearly any other time, Crowley would never have made such a suggestion — not because he wouldn’t be amenable to such a situation, but because he had an approximately 5,999 year streak going of hiding his feelings, and he was determined not to break it. But the combination of exhaustion and need for his angel’s comforting presence overrode his better judgement. Besides, his bed was more than big enough for both of them to sleep comfortably without even touching, a fact which he now imparted to Aziraphale, who took Crowley’s hand without further protest and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom.

     Crowley’s sleeping situation was predictable. Black sheets. Black duvet. Black silk pajamas that the demon changed himself into with a snap of a finger before crawling into bed. Aziraphale changed in the same manner — into some startlingly unstylish pajamas with a yellow paisley pattern — and hesitantly crawled in after him, lying stiffly on his back.

“Relax, or you’ll never get to sleep” said Crowley, his voice slightly muffled by one of the luxurious down pillows. He had taken his shades off and was watching the angel.

“I find it difficult at the best of times, and after the rather stressful events of the day…”

“You wanna cuddle?” This question was spoken in the tone one uses when they are absolutely, one hundred percent joking — unless the answer to the question is yes, in which case it is absolutely, one hundred percent serious.

     Aziraphale colored a bit in the darkness. “What?” Looking at his angel, a single thought went through Crowley’s head: oh, fuck it — and all at once he closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around his bedmate, pulling him in so his head rested on the demon’s chest. Aziraphale let out a small squeak, but then seemed to settle down. Relief flooded through Crowley when he realized he hadn’t been shoved off the bed, and he tried to concentrate on slowing his heart rate as he wrapped his arms tightly around the angel and closed his eyes.

  

—-

“…Crowley? Are you asleep?” A tentative voice woke the sleeping demon despite its low volume.

“I was. What is it?” A feeling of dread descended over Crowley.

“You…” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you… well you’re not very comfortable.”

“I’m not… what?” Crowley woke up a little bit more.

“You’re all… points. And flat surfaces.” He lifted himself up from the rather unpadded ribcage he’d been laying on. Really? Crowley thought. And then thought something else, as he looked over Aziraphale.

“You’re not.” Too tired for inhibitions, he smirked slightly and reached out to poke at the angel’s side.

“Oh, really!” Aziraphale harrumphed and batted the hand away. Undeterred, Crowley maneuvered himself to take the place on the Aziraphale’s chest that the angel had been occupying on his, wrapping an arm around his middle and snuggling into his warmth and softness and feeling somehow… Right. At home.

“Better?” For a few terrifying moments Aziraphale was quiet and still. Then he lay his arm around Crowley’s shoulders and relaxed again.

“Better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am 29 goddamn years old and this is the very first fanfic I've ever written, and the first fiction I've written in well over a decade. What have these two done to me.
> 
> Title stolen from a lovely Decemberists song that you should definitely listen to.
> 
> UPDATE: I wrote a followup! https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906342


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